Genevieve
by SusieMinnesota
Summary: A non mary sue Irish immigrant who comes to America with the hope of making something of herself. After living in the shadow of a gorgeous and perfect older sister, she wants to find herself and first love in this new country.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

April 22, 1899 Dublin, Ireland

In my world everything is ordinary. Everyone is the same and every day is the same.

I suppose that I must introduce myself to you, my faithful readers, so that you can understand my ordinary story thus far. My name is my identifier, my one true original trait; every piece of me belongs to somebody else: my thick, and sometimes unruly dark hair to my mother, my blue eyes, which I am told are beautiful, though I do not believe it, to my father and my stubbornness is my grand mother's (though what Irish lass is not stubborn? I have yet to meet one easy going person in the whole of Dublin!). I am not thin nor am I grossly obese like the baker's wife (I am sure that she takes her share of the sweet pastries when her husband is not watching her). Mother says that it is not proper for a young lady to talk of such things, but I take great pride in my rather full bosom. Oh dear, I am embarrassed now to have spoken of it but I feel as if I can tell you my secrets, no matter how dark they may be. The rest of me, I fear, is too large. Mother tells me that I should be proud of my "full lips, round bottom and child bearing hips". (If that subject is not the least bit awkward as it is, than it surely is most embarrassing when coming from ones own mother)

My family and I live in a small village outside Dublin, Ireland. Constantly filled with people, our house is a warm, loving place, even when there is not much to eat and nothing to burn in the fireplace. I cannot pretend that we are the richest people but neither are we the poorest family on the block. Everyone does their part and we get by on what we have. Father is a coal miner with my three older brothers, Daniel who is 25 and has four children of his own, Michael who is 23 and has five children and finally Peter who is 19 and my best friend within my family. Mother works in the factory along with my older sister AnneMarie who is 19 and Peter's twin. Both, Mother and Annemarie work from 8 to 3 then rush home to take care of the house. Personally, I do not envy their work and I do believe that I am the luckiest one in the family when it comes to daily jobs. My work consists of reading stories all day long to a senile and blind old woman who lives down the road and is currently going deaf in both ears (a boon for me, to say the least, when my Irish temper gets the best of me and I utter some unladylike vocabulary). Let me tell you that I could be destined for stage greatness someday, with my dramatic antics and knack for accents, which I have picked up during my work. The job does not pay much and half the time Mrs. Ford drifts off, into a fitful (and loud!) sleep, in her chair. When she does fall asleep, I indulge my own imagination with the classics that she keeps in her well stocked library. Despite it all, I am proud to be contributing something to the family.

Of course, AnneMarie insists that I spend my days dreaming and sitting lazily about while she works her hands to the bone in the factory (She neglects to realize that, had she worked her hands to the bone she would be considered a skeleton!) I suppose that I would consider AnneMarie and me to be complete opposites, she is day to my night and white to my black. She has long, straight russet locks which flow down to her miniature waist. Come to think of it, every part of her is tiny, well except her height. Any other tall girl would be thought to be gangly if they were 5'8", but not the graceful AnneMarie; it only adds to her allure. All of the young men in our village are in love with her (or so it seems to me), and how could they not be? She works hard, is beautiful, is kind (to everyone but me) and sings with the voice of an angel. I have found it very hard to stay out of her shadow (though it is much too small for **me** to get lost in).

I suppose that a small part of me is jealous of her. Alright…a very large part of me is jealous of her, but I can safely say that I am much more intelligent than she is. You see, my faithful confident, that AnneMarie's only contact with the hordes of young men that love her, is through the batting of her lashes and an occasional smile. Unlike me, she would never try to engage them in a philosophical discussion or academic debate. I could sit for hours, arguing anything and everything with the educated males of my village and they like me for that (and only for that!) I guess I should not complain but what is intelligence and personality on a plain girl of medium height, with a medium to matronly frame who will never be able to use her wit and knowledge for anything useful? I have heard that women in America can be anything they want to be: a teacher, a nurse and some are even doctors. Recently, I have be contemplating leaving Ireland and going to America, but where would I ever get the money to buy a passage on one of those fancy ships?

You must forgive my ranting and raving but with four older siblings it is difficult to find someone to talk to who can relate to me or even has the time to talk. Speaking of talking, I have realized that I forgot to tell you the two most important things about me. One: I am the youngest child in my family and I am 17 years old.

Two: My full name is Genevieve Elizabeth O'Malley and you can call me Genevieve, nothing else! I hate the nickname Gen, Vive and Vee, so do not even think about calling me that!

Alas, Mrs. Ford has woken up and I must keep reading her Bible Verses, in Latin! I shall write again my faithful comrades.

Till then,

Genevieve

Manhattan, New York, United States 1899

The sun is barely rising on the horizon when the owner of the NewsBoys Lodging House, Mr. Kloppman, creeps upstairs to wake his tenants: the newsies. The routine is typical. First he yells "Boots!" at a dark, young boy, who springs into action at the sudden noise. Then, he slaps the feet of a tall, dark haired boy, whose immediate response is to proclaim "I didn't do it!". One by one, the boys of the lodging house stumble off their bunks and into the washroom. After a quick wash and shave (for the older boys), they all file out, following the call of the chiming circulation bell. The newsies buy their papes from a crabby, middle aged man, Mr. Wiesel, whom they not so affectionately have dubbed "Mr. Weasel".

Sunny and warm, the day is just an ordinary one for the newsies of Manhattan. No particularly important headlines and no interesting events on the streets of New York. On occasions like this, the newsies must be imaginative and create their own headline to draw in customers.

The tall, handsome leader of the Manhattan Newsies, Jack Kelly, was seated on the concrete steps outside the circulation office. He was skimming the papes, to see if anything interesting would catch the curiosity of his normal customers. Page one, nothing. Page two, nothing and nothing for the next few pages. Just when he was getting desperate, he glimpsed a small article in the bottom left hand corner of the page that he was about to turn.

"Hmmm" said Jack. "There might be something here."

He rose from the concrete step and sauntered towards the gate to the streets of New York.

"Hey Jack! You got a good story?" yelled a blond boy with a worn, leather patch over his left eye.

Jack nodded and continued on his way. When he was out of earshot of the other newsies he began to call his headline.

"Olympic size passenger ship set to flood the streets of America with thousands more Irish immigrants. United States citizens in uproar over predicted rise in unemployment!"

"Damn Irish!" thought Jack "Why can't they stay in their country where they can't take jobs away from everybody else?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer (which should have been posted on the last chapter…in my excitement for posting my first fanfic I forgot!): I do not own any of the Newsies or the Newsies places mentioned in the story…even if I wish that I did. I only own Genevieve, the members of her family, Mrs. Ford and any other characters that come from my mind along the way._

_Author's Note: The Teutonic is an actual, White Star Line, passenger ship that left Queenstown, Ireland in 1899, carrying an 18 year old passenger named Mary O'Malley. I discovered the record of this ship on the Ellis Island Archives website. If anyone is interested in finding the records of relatives who immigrated to America via Ellis Island, I highly recommend checking out that site! Yes I am pretty much a geek and proud of it. You should be proud of my fairly prompt updating considering that I am in college and should be studying…. Now, on with the story!_

* * *

_**Chapter Two**_

April 29, 1899 Dublin, Ireland

My dearest friends,

You have no idea how much has happened to me in the past week. Not to be cliché, but I could never have imagined this in my wildest dreams (well a dream that turned bad) Alright, that is not truthful. I have wished and hoped for this for the whole of my existence, but look at me now. Now, you may be wondering what exactly "this" is and why things have gone bad and I will tell you, but first I have a rather sad story to pen. In my last entry I told you about the elderly woman that I read to every day, remember? Well she passed away two weeks ago and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I know that sounds awful and I am now going to burn in hell for all eternity, but I couldn't care less! I suppose I should explain.

One morning I walked into Mrs. Ford's library, went over to the shelf where she kept the Iliad (which we were reading that week) and took my place on the crushed velvet covered chair that I usually sit in when I read to her. She, as was her custom, was already in her chair and ready for me to start reading. I opened up the book and began to read "…yes and Hector knew the truth in his heart and the fighter cried aloud..."

"Genevieve, my dear, you can stop for now. There is something that I wish to tell you" she started.

"There is something that I wish you to have. Take this key, go over and open the top left drawer in the cherry desk near the fireplace. Bring me the small blue envelope." She said.

I obeyed and pulled the envelope out of drawer, brought it to the old woman and kneeled at her feet.

"My children in America sent me this for my 87th birthday this year and it was a present that I truly did not want. They wished to uproot and old woman who has lived all of her life in the same place. What is all the fuss about streets paved with gold? The only gold is what you hold in your heart and that is what is truly important in life. Do you understand me Genevieve?

I nodded, not knowing what else to do, but understanding what she was trying to tell me.

"I think that you have gold in your heart child and unfortunately this country has never suited you that well. Do not think that I do not see the stifling of your imagination and intellect and your unfulfilled desires. You think that I am blind, deaf, dumb and always asleep, but I hear, I see and I know. Genevieve, you are a special girl and I want you to have the world."

I could not even believe what I was hearing. Mrs. Ford had barely spoken to me, in anything more than a grunt, in all the years that I had read to her. What did she mean that I was special and that she saw all my heart's desires? I mean, I dream a lot of things, mostly things that I would never want anyone else to find out (especially things that are boy related…do not tell me that I am the only one who thinks like that! I know you do too and do not deny it!). I once had this fantasy where I was kidnapped by a sinister troop of passing gypsies who forced me to be their sex slave until I was rescued by a tall, dark handsome, well built man who made me forget all the gypsies had done to me. But that is beside the point. Excuse me; I should not be speaking like that. I think I may have wandered a bit on this story.

"Genevieve" she said "I want you to have what is in this envelope and think of it as your chance to shine and be who you want to be. You know I had a perfect older sister once and I always thought that I was second best." Her eyes began to mist as she continued.

"I never thought that I was worth anything until someone gave me a push in the right direction and taught me that I was beautiful too. I wanted to be that person for you before it was too late and you lost your spirit and I, mine. Now take this and go. I do not want to see you moping about around here."

I managed to stammer a quick "thank you" before racing out of the library. I reached the door, but stopped and ran swiftly back into the room to give her a peck on her wrinkled cheek before dashing out again.

Mrs. Ford leaned back, surprised but at peace. I found out later that she passed away in that moment, knowing she had spread a little cheer into the heart of a young woman.

Now you are probably wondering what exactly was in the envelope (though it is not too hard to figure out). It took me a long time before I even opened it. I ran and ran for what seemed like miles until I reached a little pond that is hidden in the woods behind my house. Breathing heavily, I sat down on one of the large rocks and opened the little blue envelope with shaking hands. I pulled out a small piece of paper and read exactly what it said: Queenstown, Ireland to New York, USA: a ten day voyage on White Star Line's Teutonic. Sails on the 10th of May, 1899. The holder of this ticket is entitled to a second class cabin, free roam of all decks and dinner with the first class passengers. My breath caught in my throat. Mrs. Ford had given me **her **ticket to America! She wanted me to travel on a ship and make a new life in America. Was I dreaming?

I was dancing on clouds when I entered my house.

"What you got there little sis?" asked Peter, ripping the ticket out of my hand.

I should have known that I could not keep anything to myself.

"What is this?" he asked

"Something I got from Mrs. Ford" I replied "It isn't anything important"

"Sure is isn't.

I tried unsuccessfully to yank back the ticket; Peter is 6'3.

"Peter, if you promise to give it back I will tell you what it is."

"Deal"

"Honestly Pete. I swear you are ten years old sometimes"

"Seven, if you please"

"Whatever you say."

"Now you're just wasting my time Gen. Tell me what has got you so happy, yet gives you cause to be so secretive?"

I must admit that I hesitated to tell Peter. In my ecstasy I neglected to think realistically about the whole situation. There was no way that my parents were going to let their 17 yr old daughter travel thousands of miles across the ocean, by herself, to live in a whole different country, by herself.

"Well…" I began. "It's a ticket."

"Well I can see that. Where'd you get it?"

"Mrs. Ford"

"That crabby old lady who never talks to you? I thought she hated you"

"Thank you for your faith in my wit and charm, Peter. Do you want me to tell you or not?"

"Yes, yes I do"

"Well she gave me her ticket to America, turns out she does like me and wants me to have a future and the boat sails in 2 days and I am going on it" There, I got it all out.

"What?" he yelled. "You're kidding right?" I did nothing. "Do have any idea what Ma and Pa are going to say about this?"

"Truthfully, I was rather hoping that they wouldn't mind it. I mean I know the whole thing sounds ridiculous, but I've already figured it out. You see I can find some other "crabby" old lady and talk her into letting me accompany her on the journey and then I wouldn't be traveling alone" And that, my friends, is thinking on your feet. I never actually thought about that plan before, but as it came out, it actually sounded as though it might work.

"Traveling alone where, Genevieve?" my mother asked as she slipped into the kitchen carrying a large basket, stuffed with clothes.

"America" stated my brother, with a bit of a smirk on his face.

I will spare you the fine details but let's just say that the laundry hit the floor, my mother screamed and hit me and my brother had to stifle his triumph and laughter.

Now, I am seated on my bed, writing all of this in my journal. My mother sent me to bed without any supper and she has not done that since I was ten years old, maybe nine. So, I guess this is it. The Teutonic sails in two days and Genevieve Elizabeth O' Malley will not be on board. Sorry for the little wet spots on the paper but I can't help thinking that I was "like taking me to the top of the mountain and showing me the world, and then marching me back down, and saying, "That's what you can't have Genevieve, you silly great fat article". Well good night for now and thank you for your patience and albeit, silent, support

Sadly,

Genevieve

* * *

**Manhattan, New York United States of America **

Jack Kelly and his gang of Manhattan Newsies, were taking a well deserved break from peddling papes, at Tibby's restaurant.

"What do you guys think of this?" asked the tall, handsome leader of the newsies, pointing to yet another headline covering the arrival of the ocean liner from Ireland.

"Says here that the Teutonic, that's its name…"

"Way to point that out for us Jack!" a short, but loud spoken boy named Racetrack, interjected.

"Eh, shut it Race and lemme finish, or I'll soak ya!" Jack shot back. "It says here that it will be carrying one thousand Irish immigrants to New York."

"That's nothing new Jack. You know how many ships arrive at Ellis Island each day, carrying many more poor people than this ship will?" asked a curly haired boy, David, who was considered to be the smartest in the group.

"No I don't, but this one is different."

"How Jack?"

"This one is said to be carrying mostly women and children and you know what that means: more boys trying to take over our selling spots!"

"And more pretty girls!" shouted Mush, a good looking, dark curly haired boy who had a weakness for anything that batted an eyelash at him.

"You can have 'em Mush. There isn't anything good about them Irish girls anyway, they all look the same to me." declared Jack

"Here, here!" agreed the pessimistic one in the group, a tall, dark haired boy, called Skittery, who would gave been good looking, had he ever been anything but depressed and moody. "There isn't any goils for me here so why should there be one anywhere else"

"Aw, cheer up Skittery" soothed the always smiling Crutchy, who had been aptly named so, for his dependence on a wooden crutch to walk.

"That's like telling Oscar and Morris to get some brains. It ain't never gonna happen!" joked Racetrack

"Real mature" Skittery shot back

"Hey Jack, if you don't mind me asking, why do you hate the Irish so much? Aren't you Irish too?" Crutchy questioned.

"I don't know Crutch. I think it might have something to do with hating my mother and she was an Irish immigrant. Came here for a better world for her and children, see how well that turned out?" Jack answered. "Come on you bums, we gotta get selling again unless you wanna eat the rest of your papes!"

There was a collective groan and everyone filed out of the restaurant and back onto the streets of New York.

Jack took one final glance at the article and shoved his papes back onto his makeshift belt.

* * *

_"like taking me to the top of the mountain and showing me the world, and then marching me back down, and saying, "That's what you can't have Genevieve, you silly great fat article" this quote was taken from the 1995 film Circle of Friends and adapted a bit to fit my needs_

_This chapter will be the second to last time that Genevieve's story will be told in the form of a journal entry. Once she is on the ship and when she meets the Newsies, then the narration becomes omnipotent, just as it is when the Newsies are discussed in these first two chapters. I may utilize her journal at some point so everyone can see some of the things that are going on in her head, but you will just have to wait and see. I have so much planned (with multiple plot lines swimming around in my head…I have no idea how this is going to end…I have two main routes but you'll just have to wait) and I hope you guys will enjoy what you read. I know you all were dying to know all of this…Feel free to review, let me know what you think, like and dislike._


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks to my faithful reviewers! I love hearing good things that inflate my ego a little bit… haha. I would like to point out that my math skills in the last chapter were severely lacking. I was going to start chapter two with Genevieve already on the Teutonic so I meant for it to have been 2 weeks since the last entry. At the last minute I changed my mind and neglected to change the dates that I had already written. So, I send my most heartfelt apologies to everyone who was upset by my calendar issues. I was so determined to update very quickly and very often but the college thing…homework, reading, studying, papers, going to class, working…it takes up a lot of my precious writing time. Any whooselles…I don't own Newsies and anyone that wasn't in the movie is my own creation. Without much further ado, here is chapter 3 of Genevieve._

* * *

**Chapter 3**

May 9th, 1899. Somewhere on Earth (I am not going to tell you where!)

My Dearest Friends,

There is so much to say and so little time, well so little light left in the day. I must keep you in suspense for just a little while for I wish to tell you everything before I tell you anything.

Does that make sense? Well it should not! Hehe, you are in my power for now and I intend to make the most of it.

When I last left you, I was mercilessly brought down from my ecstasy into a state of deep depression. That night I cried myself into a fitful sleep, filled with disturbing dreams. I shall

impart one of them to you because I wish you to know what I was feeling at the time and also, it was a pretty vivid (and frightening!) dream. Aboard a large passenger ship, I was

leaning over the side, staring at a beam of light emanating from the depths of the ocean. A frigid wind was beating my hair into my face and splashes of cold salt water were nipping

at my nose. From behind me, a shadow loomed and I was roughly pushed off of my balance. I toppled over the side of the ship into the icy water;

my breath torn from my body.

In the midst of this action, I was jolted back to reality and consciousness by my family's rooster (and I am certainly not a morning person to begin with, so imagine a severely

depressed girl who cannot wake up in the morning, has just lost a chance to follow her dreams and has been pushed off the edge of the boat in a nightmare!) I groaned and turned

over but it was no use. Stumbling towards the ceramic basin used for washing in the morning, I sighed and moaned as if I was a spirit in a state of unrest, eternally wandering the

Earth in search of her lost love. I was not happy! (if you can imagine!)

Now I do not pretend that dreams are predictions of anything in particular but I do think that I can interpret mine and it is very simple:

Boat Teutonic

Light My dreams and ambitions and New York City

Shadow My mother killing me

So there you have it! I have a talent. Perhaps I should forget about farming and literature and join the traveling circus as a fortune teller or a dream interpreter or the bearded lady.

Well that was a little strange because I do not have a beard nor do I want one, for that matter.

I am normally not one to mope, but I did spend three days in my room sulking. Every member of my family took turns knocking on my door, trying to rouse me out of my sadness,

but what could they do? After all, it was their fault that I was not packing to begin a new life in America. I just could not fathom the fact that I had been given the chance of lifetime

and it had been taken away from me before I could even begin to plan anything or even _really_ think about it.

Let me let you in on another one of the many secrets that I hold underneath my rather thick hair. Ever since I can remember I have loved reading, learning, plays, literature, poetry,

words, song, speech, prose; everything that you can imagine. Being from a relatively poor family, I did not have any chance to go to school after I turned ten so most of my learning

has been accumulated from ingesting the classics that Mrs. Ford stocked in her extensive library. All of those books made me realize that I want to learn more and more and

someday maybe I could have the chance to impart my knowledge onto other people who are as eager to learn as I am. I want to go to university and earn a college degree, but that

is only a dream. Alas, it is only wishful thinking. Even if they would let a woman or girl, go to university, there is no money to pay for my education. I mean, I know enough to be

able to assist at the small primary school in my village, but my mother is under the misconception that women who are teachers become old spinster ladies who never marry, never

reproduce and are never happy. I am sure that I do not want that, but I do want to shape the minds of children. Even if they only go to school for a limited amount of time they

should still learn basic reading, writing and arithmetic skills. It just kills me to see so many children working at the factories and on the streets. Even poor children should be able to

learn, no matter if they have to work or not. I read in the paper that in America, the working children went on strike so that they could get better wages and conditions to work in.

Maybe they should strike to get schooling too. Well, that is what I would do.

I suppose I was a little dramatic about the whole situation, but I have no regrets because for once in my life, being stubborn actually got me something that I wanted. To you, my

friends, I do not recommend wallowing in self pity for 3 days, but if your intentions are right then you may be able to get somewhere.

One morning I was lying in my bed, staring at the crack I in the ceiling above my bed. It was raining and drips were coming through the ceiling in such a steady flow that I had to

hold my chamber pot on my stomach to catch the water. Every so often a drop would hit my face, but instead of wiping it off, I would let the drip slide down my face like a tear. I

was wet, I was cold, I was dirty and I was tired of making my point.

"So what" I thought. "So, I don't get to go the land of Golden Opportunity. Who cares anyways?"

Yet again, a soft knock came at the door to my room. I do not know what possessed me to do it, but I got out of my bed and cracked open the door. My mother was standing at

the door with a letter in her hand.

"What do you want?" I asked, a bit harsher than I mean to.

"This letter came in the mail, addressed to me and your father from one Eilinora Ford. It seems she mailed it the day she passed away. I want you to read it, then come down for

breakfast, you haven't eaten in three days." She said and then turned on her heel and walked back down the hall.

I plopped down on my bed and unfolded the piece of paper that was in my hand.

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. O'Malley,_

_I hope that this letter reaches you in time for Genevieve to make the trip across the Atlantic, to America. I do not know if she told you, but I have given her my ticket. What does an old woman like me need a new life for anyway? I see spark in your daughter and a wit and intelligence way beyond her years. Truthfully, I believe that she is being stifled here in Dublin and for the sake of her sanity; she needs to make this journey to America. I understand that you may be a bit apprehensive at sending your daughter in the world, alone, but do not worry I have made arrangements for Genevieve to travel as a companion to my good friend Mrs. Aileen Ellis. Mrs. Ellis is in need of a young woman to read to her and serve her meals and do simple maid tasks for her. She will of course be paid and I am sure that Genevieve will be more than happy to contribute her wages to the welfare of your large family. _

_She is not a little girl anymore, surely you see that. Please understand that she needs to go. I assure you that she will be well looked after and provided for. _

_Best to your family,_

_Eilinora Ford_

There was another tap at my door. I crept over and opened it to find my mother standing in the doorway holding a large bag, with a wooden trunk at her feet.

"You'll need these." she said.

I flew into her arms, crying tears of joy.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you" I cried.

So, they gave in and I, Genevieve Elisabeth O'Malley, am taking a journey across the ocean to the greatest country in the world. I can hardly sleep. The next time that I will write

words across this paper, I will be on the Teutonic and out on the ocean. Till then my kindred spirits!

Genevieve

* * *

May 9th, 1899 Manhattan, New York, USA

Jack Kelly lay awake in his bunk at the lodging house. He did not know why he could not fall asleep, but whatever it was, was starting to really annoy him. Rolling onto his back,

Jack sighed, staring at the crack in the ceiling that lay above his head. His date with Sarah was not anything special. They talked, they ate, they walked, they kissed; it was their

routine, their way. Lately, little things about her had started to annoy him. Whenever she would cling to his arm, Jack would flinch and every word that came out of her mouth

sounded like a complaint even if it was something as simple as "Pass the salt".

"What is with her anyways?" he whispered into the dark of the bunk room.

He could not have lost all feelings for her, could he? Jack was almost positive that he had, but he could not stand to break her heart and have David break his nose.

"I guess I'll have to deal with it somehow" he said and rolled over, onto his side, falling into a deep slumber.

Across the bunk room, Skittery was sound asleep, dreaming of the girl with the bright, dancing eyes that would make him happy and make him believe in love again.

* * *

_What happens when Genevieve is on The Teutonic? What does Jack do about his "Sarah" problem? What happened to make poor Skitts have no faith in girls or love? Tune in for Chapter 4 to find out. Sorry that this one was a little on the short side. I swear that Genevieve will actually meet the Newsies in Chapter 5..or 6 hahaha…probably 5…I'm not that evil, I swear. Feel free to Review and tell me what you think, or offer suggestions if you want. I do have pages and pages of notes that I have written about what I want to write in this fan fiction but I do welcome any ideas or characters. Lemme know!_


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